


I'm Kind of a Big Deal in Iowa

by Nemhaine42



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fic, un-beta'd because I'm impatient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemhaine42/pseuds/Nemhaine42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started off with an ancient, orange and yellow magnet depicting the state of New Mexico. It had been on the whiteboard of the lab when Darcy and Jane had arrived and was used to hold up charts and projections and pictures of gorgeous men trapped in interdimensional weather anomalies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Kind of a Big Deal in Iowa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedingenue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/gifts).



> Prompt fill for twistedingenue. My beta is incomminucada at the moment but impatient me decided to post anyway before I edit it to death.

It started off with an ancient, orange and yellow magnet depicting the state of New Mexico. It had been on the whiteboard of the lab when Darcy and Jane had arrived and was used to hold up charts and projections and pictures of gorgeous men trapped in interdimensional weather anomalies. When it had been time to pack up and move on, the magnet seemed like a relevant - and free - souvenir, so in it went.

 

The second acquisition was one of a panda wearing a mortar board, which had been sent with congratulations from Erik when Darcy finished up her degree. It also came with a long letter of Selvig complaining about the fact that his SHIELD research project gave him a security detail, even when he went for groceries, and weren’t subtle about monitoring all his mail.

 

Before long, it became a tradition to have a new magnet for every place they went. The tackier the better. Tromsø, London, Darcy’s hometown, Jane’s hometown, a Mjolnir as a placeholder for Asgard. There was one from the Keck Observatory, sent by Darcy’s mother from a recent trip to Hawaii.  It was a collection that, as soon as it developed sentimental value, became immediately redundant. Turns out that astrophysics labs in Stark Tower have no need for such paltry things as magnets. Or even boards to stick them to.

 

No matter, Darcy continued adding magnets out of sentimentality and stubbornness, using them to pin up photos. Visits to various observatories still merited a purchase, not forgetting the plastic arc reactor from their tour of Stark Industries’ factory in California. Dr Banner brought them one from Calcutta. And since New York was their new base of operations, it only seemed fitting to get a magnet for that. Although, in the end, Darcy went for one of Captain America’s shields with _Brooklyn, NY_ written on it.

 

“Where’s mine?” Clint asked in faux grumpiness over their coffee and donut break, “How come I don’t get a magnet?”

 

“Well, I saw some Robin Hood ones in England but his tights were green, not purple,” she replied, sticking her tongue out.

 

Clint pretended to laugh and poked her in the ribs.

 

\--

 

One day, a new magnet appeared on the board. ‘Appeared’ as in ‘randomly being there one morning where it hadn’t been the night before.’ It was a little round button with the words ‘I’m kind of a big deal in Iowa’ on it. Which made no sense. Iowa wasn’t exactly high on their list of dream destinations, work or otherwise. Darcy had never set foot in the place and she didn’t think she knew anyone who’d been recently.

 

It was followed not long afterwards by a Sphynx magnet from Cairo, then a panorama image of the Bosphorus, one from Colombia, one from the Philippines, and one that Natasha assured her said ‘Merry Christmas’ in Ukrainian rather than anything rude. Natasha denied buying it and Thor flatly refused to tell her who had, though he obviously knew.  It could hardly be one of the other support staff, not considering the far-flung, and sometimes volatile, destinations, so it must be an Avenger. Nobody was coming clean, no-one was spilling the beans. Not even JARVIS. Darcy knew it bothered Jane too, since whoever it was had been accessing their high-security lab, but Jane was clearly getting an equal amount of satisfaction from watching it drive Darcy loopy.

 

\--

 

Clint knew it probably wasn’t the best time. Or place. But he saw the colours out of the corner of his eye and speared off towards what was left of a corner store.  Yeah, it was a dumb idea to go running after souvenirs when he - and most of the others - were running for their lives. But next stop after this was an airbase in a country Clint knew Darcy already had a magnet for. And you were supposed to run in a zigzag pattern anyway.

 

A landing onto a rooftop, looking for the helicopter he was meant to have followed everyone else into, made his ankle twinge and, while it didn’t stop him running, it sure did slow him down. He felt a shot graze his leg and hissed.

 

 _"Barton! Where the hell are you?”_ he heard down his mic, alongside the sounds of a nearby hovering aircraft. He gave his position and headed in the vague direction he thought his pick up would be. It involved jumping on to another roof, which hurt, and allowed someone to get a shot in. It went in through the front of his shoulder but not out the other side so, instead of the heroic leap into the helicopter, he just pitched sideways and leant against the short wall at the edge of the roof. The pain was searing and shortened his breath. It took all his effort just to force his legs to hold him up.

 

He felt rushing air and a hand grabbed the back of his uniform, pulling him up. He landed with a graceless thump in the back of the transport helicopter, hearing the muffled voices of his friends and only managing a strangled groan at the pressure soon applied to his shoulder. It felt wet and sticky, hot and painful.

 

\--

 

When he woke up, it was to an unfamiliar plasterboard ceiling and stark lighting. His head pounded, his shoulder throbbed and his ankle still hurt, although - _hooray_ \- not in plaster. He heard a wet sniffle on one side and look across to see Darcy peering at him worriedly from a plastic chair.

 

“Hey,” he rasped.

 

“Hey, you,” she let out a relieved sigh and came to sit on the edge of his bed. Her eyes were red and tired-looking, and her voice was weighted with relief.

 

“Where are we?” he asked.

 

“Inch-lick Air Base.”

 

“Incirlik,” he corrected, with a soft smile at her mangled pronunciation.

 

“We’re in Turkey,” she said.

 

“Why are we in Turkey?”

 

“Well, you’re here because you got shot,” Darcy began, reaching into her pocket, “I’m here partly because the information on the drives you guys were getting has stuff on it they want Jane and Erik to look at. But also because they tell me you just risked your life to get me some sand.”

 

She held up the little magnet, a small bottle of sand with the ‘Syria’ written across the front in green letters. The coloured patterns in the sand were now all shaken up and Clint could see caked-in blood where someone had been unable to clean in the tight little gap at the rim of the bottle.

 

“You wouldn’t let the doctors pry it out of your hand, Natasha had to do it,” she paused and took a deep breath, “why the hell was this so important?”

 

He shrugged, wincing at the pain, “For your collection… I thought you’d like it.”

 

“You thought I’d like what? For you to _die_ getting it?!” Darcy exclaimed, with tears welling up in her eyes, “Oh my god.”

 

“Aww, please don’t cry,” he begged, bringing his hand up to brush her cheek with his thumb, “I’ll be okay.”

 

She wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed thickly, “I thought it was Thor, you know. Bringing me all those stupid magnets and just not admitting it. Were you ever going to say anything?”

 

He squirmed a little before confessing, “I was just kind of playing it by ear.”

 

Darcy let out another heavy sigh and took his hand in hers, stroking his knuckles, “You’re such an idiot. And how, exactly, are you a ‘big deal in Iowa’?”

 

“I was born in Iowa.”

 

“You were not.”

 

“Was so. I could prove it to you but it’s classified.”

 

“If it’s classified you can’t be a big deal.”

 

“Touché.”

 

\--

 

Clint’s ankle might not have been broken but it still needed time to heal. Plus, you know, the gunshot wound in his shoulder. It wasn’t all bad; the others still had to go around the world to jump off high buildings and Clint got to sit in the tower, stretched out on the recliner, with Darcy bringing him food and kisses.

 

“Look what else I got,” she said over turkey sandwiches, “It took forever to get it sent over - Nat lied to the Air Force for me - and then Tony didn’t trust me to use a wood-burner or a glue gun. But here it is.”

 

She unwrapped a small piece of wood, to which had been stuck the bullet the docs had pulled out of him. Underneath, his initials and the date of the mission had been burned into the wood.

  
“And before you get any big ideas, I _don’t_ want a collection of these. One is too many,” she impressed upon him before kissing his cheek and putting their newest magnet on the shared fridge. 


End file.
